Nervous
by Sylvera
Summary: #39 of my 100 Themes one-shot challenge. Danger has become part of the routine, and Oliver isn't sure what he thinks of that.


It was nighttime in Castaway Cove, and the town was nearly empty. The people had returned home, and the near-silence of the normally lively place was almost unsettling. Still, it was no less peaceful in the absence of activity, and so there was no reason for a boy and his friends to fear a walk through the streets.

It had been a long journey back here, and Oliver was exhausted. The others weren't much better off – Esther in particular could barely keep her eyes open. By the time they reached the inn, Swaine was the only one awake enough to pay for their stay.

They walked back to their usual room. Usually Esther would hang a sheet from the ceiling next to her bed for privacy, but tonight she couldn't be bothered. She was asleep within minutes, and Drippy quickly followed suit. Oliver, on the other hand, couldn't sleep.

It wasn't for any lack of trying. He tried shifting positions. He tried counting backwards, and he tried to make up stories in his head. Nothing worked.

It was when he got up and went through the supplies that Swaine noticed something was wrong. "What's up with you?" he remarked. "Thought you were tired."

"I _am_ tired," said Oliver. "I just can't sleep."

He set the Wizard's Companion against the wall. "I wanted to see if there was a spell for that, but I can't find one," he added.

Swaine shrugged. "Can't help you there."

Neither of them said anything for a while. Eventually, Oliver stood up and headed back to his bed. Before he could close his eyes again, Swaine's voice interrupted him. "Something on your mind?"

"Maybe," answered Oliver. "Now that I think about it…"

"Keep thinking," Swaine suggested. "Hard to relax if your head's still busy."

After another long pause, Oliver spoke up again. "If something was bothering me, could I talk to you about it?" he asked.

"Might as well. I'm not quite ready to turn in anyway."

Another pause, this one much shorter. Oliver sat up and continued. "Fighting doesn't scare me so much anymore," he said.

Swaine gave him a funny look. "And that's a problem?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Oliver.

He thought for a few seconds. "I mean no, I guess not. Getting scared all the time isn't really good either."

"So then what's bugging you?" asked Swaine.

Oliver looked downward. "If fighting doesn't make me nervous, that means I'm getting used to it, and that _does_ scare me."

"I think I get it. You don't want to have to get used to it, right?"

He frowned. "Not surprising. Wizard or not, you're still a kid."

"I guess so."

Oliver yawned, and stretched his arms above his head. "Mr. Drippy says that the familiars we fight don't really die, but I still don't like hurting them."

"Even the ones that go after us first?"

"Even them. I wish we didn't have to fight at all."

Swaine chuckled. "Sure, that sounds nice, but then how would you be strong enough to take down Shadar? Think of them as stepping stones."

"That doesn't help at all," replied Oliver.

Swaine sighed loudly. "Gonna be honest here – I don't think I can help you."

"Guess not," said Oliver, glumly. "You probably think I'm a wimp."

"Nah, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Swaine leaned back in his chair. The truth was, he couldn't relate – not anymore. Once he'd left the palace, he'd learned quickly that there was little room for sympathy. He'd been alone, with nothing to rely on except his own strength and his own wits. Taking advantage of people, getting his hands dirty – it was second nature by this point. He'd never thought twice about how all that had affected him. He'd just seen it as adapting to the circumstances.

And then Oliver came along, with a plan so ridiculous that anyone with an ounce of sense wouldn't have given it a second thought. Even his reasons were a bit far-fetched. Bringing back the dead? Even with the logic behind it, it was hard to say how likely it was to work. But the point was that this kid cared enough about someone to risk everything for her. That kind of resolve wasn't something that Swaine was used to seeing.

It was those qualities – kindness and courage and all that other goody two-shoes stuff – that made him feel pretty lousy by comparison. But he wasn't about to admit it. "You know what makes someone a wimp?" he said. "Not trying. And if you've got anything going for you, it's that you don't give up even when people tell you you're crazy."

Oliver thought about that for a moment. "You mean like you did when we first met?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just like that."

"Do you still think I'm crazy?"

"Yeah, kinda. But you're the right kind of crazy."

Oliver smiled a little. "That's pretty nice, coming from you."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired. It messes with your head," was the response.

For a while, neither of them said anything. "If you're worried about the right way to play hero, I'm not the one to ask," Swaine added. "But I will say this: danger's part of the routine now, and that's not gonna change. Can you deal with that?"

"I think so," said Oliver.

He paused. "But I don't have to like it," he murmured, almost too quietly to hear.

Swaine heard him anyway. There was plenty more he could've told Oliver, but somehow he didn't think any of it would be helpful. He said nothing, and the boy fell asleep soon after, leaving Swaine with nothing but his own thoughts.

He had a feeling that he'd be the one that slept badly tonight.

* * *

Bit of a disclaimer: it's been almost a year since I played Ni no Kuni, so I don't remember things as clearly as I'd like. If I screwed up any details, or anyone's characterization, that's probably why.


End file.
